


was

by oddandevander



Series: keep it up [2]
Category: jacksepticeye, septicegos - Fandom
Genre: Alcoholism, Depression, Gen, he's so sad, save him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-05-05 17:35:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14623704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddandevander/pseuds/oddandevander
Summary: Work, work, work.





	was

Sometimes it was disappointing to wake up. Sleeping was much more peaceful. Chase had started to envy Jack a little more than he was willing to admit. God, what a horrible thing to do. What kind of heartless asshole envied a friend in a coma? Jack didn't want that. He was probably scared. Probably would love to be in Chase's place right now, awake and alive. Chase hardly felt like either of those. He got up anyway.  
  
_I'd rather just be dead than work,_  he thought glumly, not bothering to shoo away his own self-pity this morning. What did he work for, anyway? Work, work work, every day. So he could come home to absolutely nothing. Except his kids, on the weekend, and that was all. And whisky. He sort of winced at the fact that alcohol was his biggest motivator at the moment.  _Gotta go to work so I can have money to spend on my alcohol so I can drown out my problems like a mature adult._  
  
Haha. Fun.  
  
It wasn't even an interesting job. And it wasn't hard; just time consuming, which felt much worse. Because it kept him there, doing the same things over and over again, but gave him enough mental capacity to just  _think_ , and god Chase hated thinking. Nothing good there anymore.  
  
Days blended together in a way that almost made him feel sick. He hardly remembered what day it was anymore, except for weekends, because those were all that mattered, and every other day was just work, work, work, all the same. Get up, get dressed, go to work, work, leave, come home, drink, sleep, repeat. Work, work work. Work. Work. Work all the time. Work every day. Just work.  
  
He didn't go through the days actively sad, not as far as anyone else was concerned. Chase did everything in his power to act normal. He smiled and talked to people and joked and pretended that it didn't make him feel nauseous to do so. It sort of hurt to pretend to be happy when he knew he wasn't. He really wanted to be happy. Really did try. Never worked.  
  
But he did. Work, work, work. Work all the time, live in a state of being tired and sad and, at good times, drunk. And work every day. Work all the time. Work hard so he could buy alcohol. Work hard so he could buy his kids toys when they came over. Work hard so he could buy Jack little gifts every time he went to visit. Work hard so he could keep living. Surviving was more accurate, but sure. Living. Living and working. Forever.


End file.
